


Snufkin, the Beguiling Vagabond

by sweesbees



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22158421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweesbees/pseuds/sweesbees
Summary: After a trip outside the valley, Snufkin returns to Moominvalley and everyone is happy. But some things are too good to be true.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

The valley hummed with busy bees and bubbling streams as it swayed in the gentle summer breeze that ran its fingers through the grass. The sun kissed the ground and gave the valley the type of warmth that was comfortable enough to laze around in. Moominhouse had only the slightest hustle and bustle coming from Moominmamma who was taking advantage of the warm weather to dry her towels and linen. Moominpappa rest in his hammock behind the house, his eyes obscured by his hat and a collection of poetry resting half open on his belly. While Little My was occupied, she was only sitting by the river to catch tadpoles that swam along by hand. Every little thing was content.

The only exception was Moomin.

He sat in a cloud of melancholy on the verandah, watching Mamma as she pinned a tablecloth to the clothesline. It wasn’t that he had nothing to do - in fact, Sniff and Snorkmaiden came by earlier asking if he wanted to head down to the beach to pick up shells. He refused. There was nothing he wanted to do more than fish with his friend Snufkin, but alas, he could not.

Snufkin told Moomin that he had to leave for an impromptu trip far past the mountains. While Moomin protested as usual, Snufkin promised a swift return and he would only be gone for five days at most. It had already been two weeks. Such absence left his heart in a perpetual state of pining, and as such it took the joy out of anything else. The last few days in particular had Moomin wandering through a mess of pain and numbness. It was all he could really do to stop himself from getting scared, but the question in the back of his mind was only swelling and growing bigger.

Is Snufkin even going to return to Moominvalley at all? Did something happen to him? What even was beyond the mountains that was so necessary to draw his friend to them like an oblivious moth? And in the summer too! Moomin wasn’t supposed to worry about missing Snufkin until the middle of autumn at least. Knowing that there were only a handful of months until the weather turned cold, Moomin even started to worry that his traveller friend may find it more convenient to keep moving south than return to Moominvalley.

Moomin’s ears were folded flat on his head, drooping along with his face. If the wind passed by too loud, or a bird chirped in a tree, or if a foot crunched sticks underneath it, his ears would perk up momentarily. As sad as he was, his ears would pick up any noise that was a telltale sign of his best friend finally returning home. His heart, sick from loneliness, wanted to hear leaves crumbling under Snufkin‘s boots, or a new tune played with gusto from his mouth organ. But none of those sounds were any of those things, and it made him ache. Instead, he settled for keeping his eyes off the bridge.

Then Moomin opened his eyes. He must have dozed off because when he looked behind him, Moominmamma had already taken her load of washing inside. The grass itself appeared to be bathed in the slightest tinge of orange. Was the sun setting already? As he looked behind him, his ears perked up at the steady sound of thumps against the ground. These thumps were heavy. If they were footsteps, it would have to be someone wearing thick boots that made their steps known. Just after the brief moment he pondered who could be making these steps, his eyes caught the sight of a green hat. Moomin wasn’t wrong! Snufkin had returned!

Moomin sprang from his position like his heart which was threatening to burst from his chest. He could see his friend waiting at the bottom of the hill, having already crossed the bridge where they would meet. How Moomin could kick himself for being so unobservant! If he wasn’t busy moping, he could have met Snufkin earlier. Almost tripping over himself, Moomin kept on tumbling down the hill to reach his eager friend with his arms outstretched.

No, Moomin’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, Snufkin, his wandering travelling friend, was back in Moominvalley at last. His overcoat was a bit scuffed, and his bag appeared to have a bit less in it than he did when he left, but he appeared no worse for the wear. The gentle wind which had picked up weaved its way around Snufkin, carrying his hair and the bottom of his coat with it. The river behind him sparkled with the reflection of the sun, and it made the mumrik look even more stunning. The anticipation lead to a wonderful looking friend in front of Moomin’s eyes, and it tugged his heartstrings in many directions.

What surprised Moomin though is that Snufkin’s arms were wide open upon seeing the troll barrel towards him. It was very rare that he would welcome physical contact, and it was even rarer to have him initiate it. Most meetings after the winter hibernation would be of a rather restrained candor, and that was when they had not seen each other for months. They would exchange greetings and just sit on the bridge, ready to catch whatever fish were awake in the spring. But now, Snufkin stood ready for Moomin to launch himself into his arms.

The two friends met clumsily with Moomin pushing Snufkin off his feet for a moment and his snout bumping against the traveller’s chest. While crying his name over and over, Moomin buried his head in deeper, rubbing against the spot on his chest. “Snufkin, why did you have to do that? I missed you so terribly!” Moomin cried. His sobs were met by a rumble in his friend’s chest as he purred to keep the wailing moomintroll calm.

“Hush now. I promised I’d be back, didn’t I?” came Snufkin’s soft and soothing baritone. Moomin’s quivering eyes looked up into two brown eyes that crinkled at the edge. As he stared into them, he saw flashes of reflections of white that flickered back and forth. It was a sight so charming and enchanting that chills crawled up his spine. How he missed looking into those deep, welcoming eyes that he called home. 

“I… I guess so…” Moomin trembled. At this point he was just having trouble comprehending that this mumrik in front of him was really here and holding him close enough for their hearts to slow and beat in unison. All the time he spent moping and pining made him feel more ridiculous. “It’s just, I can’t stand to be apart from you when we don’t need to be apart!” 

Snufkin chuckled, taking Moomin’s paw and running his thumb over the white fur covering his knuckles. “Don’t fret, dear Moomin. I’m here now, and I have so much I have to tell you,” he purred. Moomin’s ears perked up, instantly intrigued and excited by the promise of stories of Snufkin’s trip. This was the one thing that kept him convinced that every trip outside Moominvalley was worth it.

The orange of the valley deepened as the sun slowly set behind the hills. “Oh dear, it must be very late!” Moomin leapt from Snufkin’s arms, his nervous blue eyes darting around. “Moominmamma must have already started on dinner!” He took a glance toward Moominhouse to see if he could spy any moving shadows behind the windows. In response, Snufkin gave Moomin’s paw a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Moomin apologised after. “I really wanted to ask Mamma if you’d be able to come to dinner tonight but if she’s already started, then…” he trailed off, frowning as he looked Snufkin in the eyes. Even though his facial expression did not seem to change, there was a sadness in his eyes that only Moomin could tell was there. The beautiful brown turned cold like stone, and his eyes seemed hollow.

“N-Never mind!” Taking Snufkin’s paw with force, Moomin pulled him in. “I’ll just give you half of my dinner! Anything as long as it means you get to come to Moominhouse and tell us all your stories tonight,” Moomin pleaded. The mumrik hummed and took the brim of his hat as he looked towards the sky. It was only a second or so of Snufkin looking to the sky that he turned his head around to look at Moomin.

“As long as Moominmamma and Moominpappa approve. I would never want to impose,” Snufkin replied, poised and proper with his right heel against the side of his left foot. How it made Moomin giggle to imagine Snufkin as an imploring fiance beseeching his parents for his hand in marriage- At least, that’s what he appeared as. Shaking his head, Moomin lead Snufkin to Moominhouse with a bright red face he was eager to hide.

* * *

The views of a well lit Moominhouse on a warm summer night were what was being shown. The wall showed its visions of Moomin taking a creature he called Snufkin by the hand. This was all in first person view, being shown to its captor.

The real Snufkin sat in a mysterious structure, akin to a cocoon. He had been trapped here by a mysterious creature made of shimmering reflection. After the creature took his hand, it transformed into a fake Snufkin and trapped the real Snufkin in its trap. Had he heard of such a creature before or seen anything like it before, he would curse himself for being so foolish. For now, he had to endure just what the impostor was showing him.

Moomin being so awestruck by a doppelganger struck him in a certain way. If there was one person he would trust to sniff out a faker, it would be his best friend Moomin. And yet, he was completely enthralled by the beautiful creature. He couldn’t lie. That hurt. To imagine just how dispensable he was to someone who meant so much to him stabbed him in the heart with a cold ice pick. And if Moomin would never find out the truth, he would have to stay in this horrible trap forever, watching a stranger worm its way into his friend’s heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry about this being so late! writer’s block really gets to me

The night wind blew from the outside, but Snufkin couldn’t feel it. The temperature within the cocoon was regulated in order to give its captive a feeling of being one with the image being shown in front of it. Currently, the impostor was sitting inside Moominhouse, so the cocoon felt warm inside. It felt as if Snufkin was a ghost, watching over the occurrences inside Moominhouse while not being able to interact with them whatsoever. It taunted him; that familiar setting was all at once so close yet kept at arms’ length. 

Dinner was being served, and the whole family watched in awe as Moominmamma brought in plates and trays. Something must have gotten into her tonight. Her meals were often heavy on portions, but this was more than expected, and each bit of food looked divine in the light above the table. Snufkin could just savour it. Even if he couldn’t smell the food, he saw the steam rise from the platters and imagined just how good it would taste. 

The dinner spread included the most beautiful gratin dish. The impostor spooned some of it on its plate, and Snufkin could see the sprinkles of parsley on top of the potatoes. There were also a medley of cooked vegetables, from corn smothered in butter to broccoli that retained their green hue even after being steamed. There were also bread rolls accompanied with butter and even some jars of jam for a sweet contrast. All of it together promised a sumptuous banquet to welcome home the soul after such a long journey, like the journey he could have finished if he was not trapped here.

As his stomach rumbled, he curled in on himself. Snufkin couldn’t fathom being trapped in here for much longer. While he was used to a light diet, he would find his hunger hard to ignore if he had to see Moominmamma‘s wonderful food everyday and not have a crumb of it. He audibly gulped, and saliva thickly covered his dry throat. It was not the starvation that was going to get to him, he surmised. After all, he could deal with that; he’s done that before. It was knowing something out there could satisfy him, and he could only see it. He could never actually feel it.

* * *

Steam rose from Moomin’s mouth as he sighed heavily. He had just put away the last of the food on his plate and was now reclining in his chair. As expected after one of Mamma’s meals, he was comfortably full. His eyes rolled over to glance at the creature who posed as Snufkin. It was gently wiping leftover crumbs from its face, patting down its round red cheeks before dropping the napkin onto the empty plate. 

“You’ve outdone yourself once again,” Moominpappa announced, taking his wife’s paws. Moominmamma blushed, moving her thumbs in a circle and stroking gently. In the heat of the moment, Pappa gave Mamma a kiss, their snouts meeting together and rubbing against another up and down. As the two leaned into each other, Moomin put a paw to his chin as he kept watch of the doppelganger. He returned a glance and a nod.

“Now for some stories!” Moomin cried out, eager for what he had been waiting for since Snufkin’s return. As far as Moomin knew, the Snufkin he was seated next to was the real one, and the stories he was about to tell were extraordinary. The impostor gave a smile as all the guests at the table turned their heads to look at him. He had gotten their attention now, and he was relishing in their starstruck eyes.

“Well, I did have a rather memorable struggle just outside the mountains,” ‘Snufkin’ said, stroking his chin with his paw and wiping off some residue left over by some jam. “Oh yes indeed, it was a worthy foe indeed. I tangled with him just as I was drying out my coat. If I had been any less alert, it could have cost my life.”

“Strike me pink!” Moomin cried, paws placed to his cheek in fear, engaged with the story being woven by this false storyteller. “What was this foe?”

“I can’t tell you for certain,” said the impostor. “You know me, I won’t believe anything until I see it with my own two eyes. I heard stories, for sure, but I could never fathom them to be true. And yet, so many travellers would warn me of a creature twice as tall as the Groke and ten times more fearful. It had the talons of a falcon and a tail that would whip around and cause fires. I started to sense its presence when the forest had gotten warmer. Then I heard the cries of birds overhead as they darted over the trees. That was when I knew I had to move or I would be the next to go.”

“Goodness, how dreadful!” cried Moomin. “Was that why you came back with your coat looking messy?”

“That was most likely a huge part of it. But how about we go and do the dishes before I tell you any more? I’m sure Moominmamma would appreciate the help,” the impostor offered.

“Oh dear!” Moominmamma replied. “That would be truly wonderful, Snufkin. But I’m sure I can handle the dishes just fine while you tell Moomin your story. He really wants to hear it, I bet.”

The impostor stood up with his plate in his hand. “I insist. I’ve just been one more mouth you had to feed tonight. I’d feel dreadful if I knew you had to do more just because I came here to eat.” Without another word, the creature of mischievous mirror play took his empty plate and piled his cutlery on top of it. He sauntered over around to Moominmamma and picked up her plate, as she already had her fork and knife neatly crossed on top.

“Oh stars! Thank you very much,” Mamma replied before starting to gather some of the empty trays. With hearts in his eyes, Moomin picked up his plate and followed the impostor into the kitchen. The faker hummed a tune as he washed dishes in the basin, and it was a tune designed to be lulling, even droning. It had the warmth of a wave washing over wet sand, and each note was gentle enough to fill sand in the footprints as it receded into his mouth. The low rumble of the water as it muffled the clanking of plates and cutlery would normally be a cacophony, but the impostor’s dulcet tones kept the other noises in their place.

From inside the cocoon, Snufkin’s face frowned, his mouth open in curious question, followed by worry. His memory before his entrapment was fuzzy, but the humming of the mirrored impostor filled him with dread. Cold electricity ran down his spine, and the sensation was all too familiar. He banged on the outer shell of the cocoon, hoping like hell that he could reach Moomin and warn him somehow.

As the fake Snufkin finished the dishes, his voice rumbled as the song finished, and the Moomin family appeared no worse than before. All Snufkin could really do was wonder just why the impostor was singing. Was that the only voice it knew? Did it even have any malicious intentions? Not knowing the answer made him fear for his life.

Moominmamma grabbed a blanket and draped it over Moomin who was seated on the lounge chair. As the impostor came over, Moomin offered it the blanket. The fake Snufkin thanked Moomin and even sat closer to him to share the blanket. This made Moomin’s heart beat fast. He was unsure whether or not his best friend was compensating for time lost, or, hopefully, if he was being more emotionally open which he longed for for so long.

“Back to the story. Once I figured out what was happening, I bolted in the opposite direction, but the fire was moving in fast. Soon I was being blanketed in thick and heavy smoke. I coughed to get the smoke out of my lungs, and then I tied my scarf around my mouth and kept low. All I could do was try to find my way out of the first and get fresh air, but it was easier said than done.”

While the faker weaved its story, Snufkin badly wanted to scream. He wanted the Moomins to know that none of that happened. The monster being described was not at all real, and the real fear is the creature in front of their eyes that they were treating to tea and a warm blanket. The doppelgänger accepted all of their gifts, and each Moomin appeared pleased when it did. Snufkin was seeing expressions that never appeared before, and the impostor was bringing them out.

Maybe this is what they wanted all along. Maybe they were better off with a more open and kinder Snufkin than him.

The fake was undeniably more suited to the lifestyle of the Moomins, and even Moomin seemed happier than any other time Snufkin had returned late. But part of him refused to believe this. He didn’t want to think that the impostor was so good that no one noticed anything wrong. He wanted to believe that at least one person in Moominvalley wanted him when he may not have been the most sociable. He wanted so sorely to believe that someone knew something was up. Being trapped here for who knows how long was something he accepted. What would destroy him was thinking that no one would miss him.


End file.
